


Manus et Digiti

by m3aculpa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, Hand Kink, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 03:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John likes Sherlock's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manus et Digiti

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Manus et Digiti  
>  **Fandom:** Sherlock  
>  **Pairing/character:** John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson/Sherlock Holmes  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Warnings:** Sexual content  
>  **Word count:** 671 words  
>  **Prompt:** Written for the 2011 Halloween Mini Round over at [](http://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**rounds_of_kink**](http://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/) for the prompt _charcoal_ and the kink _hand fetishization_ (big strong hands; steady hands; rough knuckles; calluses; fists clenching in sheets).  
>  **Summary:** John likes Sherlock's hands.  
>  **a/n:** Untranslated Latin. Probably shoddy Latin at that. Originally posted [here](http://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/712264.html).  
> 

**Manus et Digiti**

  
Sherlock’s wearing his new charcoal grey gloves. They’re from a client and it surprised John at the time that Sherlock didn’t throw them out. But they’re real leather and so very soft. They’re a snug fit around the long, slender fingers. John had rubbed his cheek all over them in one weak moment. They were still warm from Sherlock’s hands.

John wants to stop the hands movements, cutting through the air sharply as Sherlock berates some poor unfortunate idiot, by taking hold of the thin wrist. Sherlock will still. In surprise, in offense, who can tell with him? John will ignore him and the cutting eyes that see through everything and everyone. He’ll slowly tug the gloves off. It leaves the wrist, the palm, the digits, bare in the cold. They look vulnerable.

He thinks in Latin.

 _Carpus et manus_. He kisses the wrist and feels the pulse under his lips. It’s racing. Sherlock’s not as unaffected as his inscrutable face would suggest. John smiles and flicks his tongue out. He licks his way up over the palm. His tongue flicks against the calluses left after playing the violin. He follows Sherlock’s unbroken lifeline and his fingers linger on the wrist, feeling the pulse raise and beat. His tongue slides between the fingers. The gorgeous, long fingers.

 _Digiti: pollex, index, medius, anularius, auricularis._

 _Pollex._ He takes the in his mouth and swirls his tongue around the digit. Sherlock starts. But he doesn’t remove his hand. John sucks gently. He slides his mouth up and down and he hears a distinct groan. Probably brought on by what it looks like he’s doing. He leaves the thumb generously coated in saliva.

 _Index_. He slowly licks his way upwards in a spiralling motion. Then down again, up again, slowly. He takes his time. He tastes the salt from the skin. Sherlock’s surprisingly warm. The gloves are a good protection for the cold. The finger glistens with saliva when he pulls away. He chances a look upwards. Sherlock’s pupils are blown wide. His cheeks have a hint of a blush in them.

 _Medius._ John kisses the joints of the middle fingers. One tender, lingering kiss to each of them. His eyes never leave Sherlock, whose mouth falls open slightly. A tongue flicks out to wet the maddeningly sensual mouth. John presses a kiss to the finger-top, before swallowing the finger down. Sherlock swallows convulsively as John hollows his cheeks and suck harshly at the finger. He’s hit with the dizzying realisation that he’s, in fact, worshipping one of the sexy, gorgeous hands he’s been admiring for so long. Dreaming about for so long (ignoring that this, of course, is just another dream, but it feels real in his mind).

 _Anularis._ He licks a ring around the finger. It’s awkward, but he manages. He’s not sure that Sherlock gets the reference, but he knows what he means himself, so it doesn’t really matter if Sherlock gets it or not. He nips at the flesh beneath the finger. He thinks he hears a soft moan, but he’s not sure. He dropped his gaze to mark Sherlock with his ring. He licks straight up to the top. He laps at it softly. Reverently coating it in saliva. Marking Sherlock, in a way.

 _Auricularis._ He takes the finger in his mouth and scrapes his teeth gently along the pinkie. He hears Sherlock hiss quietly. The other hand, still protected by its glove, touches John’s head. John sighs and sucks harshly at the finger. Sherlock’s pressed against his side and he can feel his cock hard against him. The finger’s red and wet when he pulls away, albeit reluctantly. He wants Sherlock to tease him with his fingers. He wants him to finger-fuck him for hours and keep him on the brink of coming. He wants Sherlock to make him come with just his fingers.

The fantasy continues. Sherlock catches his eye and quirks his lips in a smirk. Then he tugs the charcoal grey glove off his other hand.  
  



End file.
